Acting on Impulse
by Vehlika Clearskyes
Summary: *previously known as "Jealousy". Deleted and re-posted because I can do better. Sequel to "Seeking Satisfaction". IchiGrimm. SemeUke. Voyuer!Rukia mentioned. Mpreg mentioned. Hermaphrodite!Grimmjow


A/N: I. Am. Sorry. I know I promised you guys new chapters in everything over the summer, but my shitty 11 year old laptop died and I had to wait for my student loans to come in before I could get a new laptop. I have mixed feeling about Windows 8. To make it up to you all… smut. I fail so hard at Porn Without Plot. So~ plot-like things. Part of the "Seeking Satisfaction" universe because of reasons. Mpreg. I can do no!mpreg! with much prompting, but considering my lack of follow through with my promises so far, requestor would have to be patient.

***Updated as of 9/7/13 because I was half asleep when I first posted and the lemon just wasn't up to snuff. Also, I will try for multichap stuff.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

It was none of his business who his mate was friends with.

Grimmjow really didn't give two shits who Ichigo saw, why, how come, or for how long. It was understood by everyone that Ichigo was _his, Grimmjow's,_ and so it was fine, most of the time (even if he had to smack the big-busted-she-cat-always-in-heat* upside the head on occasion for _bouncing_ those overgrown teats of hers all over the place).

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Ichigo had gotten an apartment in Tokyo for them after they'd been caught by his cub-siblings in the middle of pawing, and arching, and not-for-children-making-babies-type-things. It wasn't funny in the slightest for either of them; Ichigo was practically their father- even Grimmjow could see that- and thus, as their kinda-not-really-sorta-like-half-mother/insert-fem ale-role-here figure, he was not amused and demanded a proper den/cave/whatever-humans-live-in-thing of their own.

The three bedroom was spacious, with a patio and got lots of sun, near a park. Grimmjow typically lounged about, what with no real world applicable job skills, while the cubs were at school and his mate fixed stupid people at the Hospital/you-will-most-likely-die-here sick place.

Two unplanned pregnancies had done little in regards to his attitude towards others. Their offspring were _theirs _and Grimmjow was not about to start loving Ichigo friends just because they fawned over their cubs (as they should). The cubs were biters- all three of them- and they disliked rabbits as much as he did.

Rukia Kuchiki. Possibly the only person he loathed more than Aizen.

She didn't actually _do_ anything to direct his ire. She just came around a lot. And touched Ichigo. And smiled at Ichigo. Laughed. Kicked/punched/pinched/teased Ichigo.

He hated her existence period. Sure, she played nice, and totally did not flirt with Ichigo, but he generally didn't like Ichigo spending time with Anyone Else Who Is Not Me. Ichigo, though, was born human and desired having his time consuming friends around. Grimmjow was fine with it just being their little pride, but he understood that Ichigo had made accommodations for _him_ so he let things go for the most part.

Grimmjow knew Ichigo wouldn't cheat on him. His mate was a man of honor, and had no interest whatsoever towards his midget friend. Rukia was honestly kind and sympathetic and not worth hating.

Still didn't like her. Their daughters were not going to become like her. Their son was not going to mate with a female like her. She was pushier than she had the right to be, louder than absolutely necessary, insistent that rabbit themed objects were what the cubs simply must have. Not in Grimmjow's lifetime, bitch.

He just had this primal, entirely understandable, urge to banish her from his territory all the time.

Not that he had any reason to be insecure.

He and Ichigo still mated as though they had just met, even though it had been nearly a decade and that was not likely to stop. Grimmjow shamelessly used sex to get his way, and Ichigo could go for _days _given the chance. It was a wonder they weren't buried alive in cubs.

It was on occasions that Rukia visited that he was the most vulgar. Thus far, Ichigo hadn't been there to show Kuchiki the door once- too busy pounding Grimmjow against a wall, or their headboard, or the living room floor. She was scandalized, sure, but always came back and sometimes watched before leaving. Ichigo didn't like a third party being there, and was actually prone to very sexy, very-dominant-male-marking-his-Grimmjow acts of violence to make her go away. Spontaneous orgasm was a common occurrence in such instances. Also, punishment. Sexy punishment with toys and bondage.

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Today was no different.

Grimmjow had bought a new sweater. Nothing fancy or weird. Just a two-sizes-too-big long sleeved, loose necked thing that looked like an indecently short dress. No pants because Ichigo _loved_ his legs, and underwear just wasn't his style. His soft cock was slightly visible, the head hanging just below the sweater's edge, his ass was _fine_ thank you, and his pussy was still bruised and tender from the last several nights, still-wet cum dribbling from deep places obscenely. Perfect.

He sauntered out of the master bedroom, and into the kitchen, easily visible from the living room. He felt the heat of Ichigo's gaze the moment he was within range and fought the urge to puff his chest out and otherwise beam in pleasure. He received immense satisfaction with the knowledge that he commanded Ichigo's attention the moment he appeared. Making himself a cup of coffee – more milk and sugar than actual caffeine – he flaunted himself over to the only man he'd ever willingly bend over for, enticingly swaying his hips and affectionately tussled those orange locks and leaned closer to rub cheeks. Ichigo had a light layering of stubble, the little hairs scraping pleasantly across his own smooth skin.

Ichigo turned and pressed his lips to Grimmjow's in a sweet little kiss, something loaded with warmth and longing, even as he quirked an I-know-what-you're-doing-eyebrow. His tongue slipped out to lick his lips, a familiar flame of hunger beginning to burn low in his belly. His conversation with Rukia, a-very pregnant-with-Renji's-child-Rukia, just about forgotten.

"So will you come?" Just.

Without removing his gaze from those piercing blue eyes and predatory hips, "I plan to."

"Nii-sama will expect you on Tuesday evening to explain everything you need to know about the ceremony."

That bare shoulder was just begging to be mauled, to have his teeth break through skin and leave rows upon rows of bites- why else would it look so inviting? "I know what being a best man entails, R- you know." Don't say her name. She is not the godly being with tanned skin and blue hair…_ juices turning light blue curls to a warm navy…_

"The Kuchiki Clan is a _noble_ family you clout! There are ancient traditions that must b-!"

Ichigo rises, watches those eyes crinkle in amusement, those hips wriggle as weight is shifted from leg to leg due to bruising, that sinful shoulder move, gaze drifting low… "Renji isn't big on tradition." A long, long white trail of semen is drooling out from between those legs, there is a seemingly innocent trail of is white dots leading back to the bedroom, but his attention drifts towards a streak of white caressing a muscular thigh as it travels south. "Knocked you up out of wed-lock." His words are almost choked, and he wants, _will_, have his mate cumming on his cock, whimpering and begging and moaning, in two minutes-

"You're one to talk, Ich-!"

-if she would just leave. "Get. Out." His cock is insistent against his zipper, and his hands want those mile long legs in them _right the fuck now. _Grimmjow gives him his best I-am-not-guilt-of-anything look, and sips from his cup, tongue peeking out and licking the rim innocently. Sonuvabitch.

"Oh, just go to your bedr-!"

"I'm gonna throw Grimmjow on the floor and fuck him stupid, and I'm gonna do it right here, in _my fucking living room_ if I fucking want to. I _fucking want to._"

She huffed. "It would be nice to visit you witho-"

"I swear to god." Grimmjow takes a subtle step back, tensing a bit, eyeing him coyly. Innocuous fingers slide down his belly and disappear, coming back up white and sticky, and uncaring if anyone, everyone, watches him stick them in his mouth.

"Oh, fine." Rukia had seen them go at it plenty of times. It was impressive. Like an Olympic feat, **but** Ichigo was stingy, and Grimmjow, possessive. Her child didn't need to be near this anyhow. Little one didn't need to be tainted by her uncivilized friend and his savage mate. Even though it was really hot and made Renji _so_ jealous. She showed herself the door for the millionth time.

It shut with a click. Ichigo tackled Grimmjow with far less grace. His mate grunted as they hit the floor, his cup flying across the room and landing somewhere with a crash. Ichigo's hands were on his waist, poised directly above him.

"Naughty panther." Ichigo's growls were so arousing.

"Just want my Ichi." Grimmjow purred. He rolled his pelvis, moaning in delight as that familiar cock twitched in greeting and his pussy wept with want for sin, his own cock stiffening in excitement.

Ichigo's hands rubbed over the fabric of his sweater, hot lips pressing kisses to his bare shoulder, teeth digging in lightly before applying pressure in earnest and Grimmjow knew he'd be wearing bandages for at least a week after this. His hands worked Ichigo free from his pants, but only just. His mate's cock was in the air, the heady musk of _Ichigo _flooding his nostrils, jeans not even half way down his thighs. His long legs wrapped around his lover's strong hips, and he rocked, thrust up into that length, smearing it wet with clear fluid and its own semen.

Ichigo _rumbled_, and shoved the sweater up his abdomen. Grimmjow groaned as those skilled fingers raked through his pubic hair and trailed down. Feeling how wet he was on a lone finger, and losing any and all patience he had left, Ichigo pulled Grimmjow up his thighs, angled his hips, and plunged inside his infuriating Arrancar.

Grimmjow tossed his head back, a slight scream tumbling from his vocal cords. He was already almost there, so swollen and sensitive from previous couplings. Ichigo showed him no mercy, driving in two fingers and curling them with expert precision, torturing that spot inside that made Grimmjow's toes curl and he cried out again, louder. His hands grabbed at Ichigo's back, clawing for purchase on those smooth, broad shoulders. Ichigo's fingers alone were capable of getting him off, and having then inside along with the girth of his cock was too much on the best of days. The stretch was magnificent, a spicy burning, the beaten walls of his snatch especially taught and tender from a heat that had driven Ichigo mad just the day before.

Ichigo's thrusts were heavy and erratic. He brought his arms to coil around Grimmjow's hips and waist, rutting like a sex starved bull against his lover's womanhood. Grimmjow's walls shivered around him in a tight, milking embrace. So, so wet, and _hot_ like a Gran Rey Cero headed straight for his balls despite the mating frenzy they'd been in all week, and the fact that Grimmjow had passed out by day four, delirious with it and _begging_ Ichigo to stop. He couldn't bring himself to care how swollen it was, how tired, how twitchy and red. Those teasing lips were open and gasping and crying out and glistening with saliva. He lapped at them with his tongue, vaguely aware of the orgasm building in his balls.

They jerked, slid across the floor, Grimmjow attempting to meet every one of Ichigo's thrusts in vain, Ichigo slamming into that criminal little cunt with glorious male intent. Ichigo fingers wedged inside once more to harass that spot, his cock bullying its way into pussy worn and abused, the tip slipping just into the trembling cervix beyond. He brought a hand between them and squeezed the over-sized clit Grimmjow claimed was cock. Cock-clit. Whatever. He squeezed and half-jerked as best as he could manage, what with the pleasure racing across every nerve and cell and follicle. As expected, Grimmjow's body arced, and he moaned, low and guttural and stuttering, "F-fuck me harder." Ichigo was all too happy to oblige.

The sound of their bodies meeting was loud. Ichigo surrendered control to his hips and his front smashed into Grimmjow's shivering form with wild abandon. The exotic Arrancar tossed his head back in silent roar as he spasmed, his whole body going into violent convulsions. His semen painted the sweater and his belly and his mate's chest white and sticky. He spurted around Ichigo, soaking his abdomen and forcing Ichigo's cock to slip out of him. He _clamped_ down, his body unable to go anymore.

Ichigo's whole body shuddered, hips shaking as he fisted himself, slick with Grimmjow's release. Two strokes later found his seed erupting from him in thick white streams, painting Grimmjow thighs and belly and cock. Crawling over Grimmjow, petting his sides, Ichigo huffed, "Mine."

"Mm."

Ichigo regained himself with indignation and stood, hauling his too sexy lover with him and over his shoulder like a cave man. Grimmjow heaved a bit for air before allowing himself to go limp, and admired the view. "Bedroom?" He purred.

"Yeah." Ichigo really knew how to walk. If he wasn't so boneless, Grimmjow might have pinched his ass or fondled him outright.

"Ring?" Grimmjow's favorite and most hated sex toy.

"No."

"No?" Ichigo dumped him on their bed, pausing for just a moment to take in the beauty of Grimmjow dressed like a woman, filled to overflowing with his cum. He felt male pride surge in his chest.

"The bar and rope." He turned away, to retrieve the mentioned items. "You remember that weekend in Vegas? What I did to you when I found you with that hooker?"

Grimmjow gulped. Audibly.

"Safe word?" That had been, by far, the most ruthless fucking of his life. He hadn't been able to walk for over a week, and he'd visibly limped for three. It was the first time he'd realized Ichigo wasn't keen on sharing. Oh sure, he wasn't going to try and get into someone else's pants or let them into his anymore, but exploiting Ichigo's jealousy made for one hell of a round as long as he didn't take it too far. His mate was a vindictive, possessive bastard.

In response, Ichigo cracked his belt, load and clear and dizzying. Heated brown locked onto sky blue. No safe word then. Um…shit?

"I-Ichi-"

An old, familiar black cloth was thrown to him. His Espada uniform obi. The first time they'd used it, they'd been in the Uruhara Shoten, his thighs and member bound tight, legs thrown over Ichigo's shoulder as his lover fucked him so hard, the granite countertop had cracked. The second, they'd been hiding in Grimmjow's rooms in Hueco Mundo and Ichigo had wrapped it around his ass cheeks while he fucked him slow and agonizing from behind, inch by inch, dry, up his sphincter. The last time, he couldn't even recall because he'd been driven insane and lost consciousness and Ichigo hadn't felt merciful enough to stop.

Ichigo stalked forward, every bit the predator Grimmjow tended to forget he was. "Showing Rukia what's _mine._" Grimmjow scrambled up the bed as Ichigo neared, placing a burning hand on a long thigh. "_**Naughty pantera**_." You couldn't cum again that fast, female refractory period or no. His mouth was dry.

Right. He was going to hell. Er. Vegas. But he'd been asking for this hadn't he? ...Grimmjow really needed to learn how to think things through. Ichigo pounced, and he was already forgetting the mental note.

A/N: …I'm sorry. I tried to make the Rukia hate less hate and more Grimmjow-is-territorial. Please Review!

***I hope you all like this better! I'm a bit rusty with the lemons…

*Matsumoto. Cat fights. Should probably write that at some point.


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